The day started with an end. Well, I guess it actually started with a text message, which led to an end, but you get my point.

At exactly 7:58 this morning, two minutes before his alarm would have woken him up, Travis Kasperbauer received a text from Bridget Alexander, the finest girl in his character design and watercolor painting classes at the Art Institute of Sommersville. The text was brief, not even using all of the 160 characters permitted in a single message. But that was what Travis had always liked about Bridget, in addition to the fact that she was extremely attractive. With Bridget, there was no bullshit. No games, no 'I said no but I meant yes' crap. She didn't make everything so complicated like other girls.

But at 7:58am, a little bullshit would have been nice. It might have softened the blow of:

Travis, this thing we have going on, whatever it is, has gotten old. I'm bored. I think we should see other people.

That bitch.

By the time Travis had begun to grasp what he just read, his stupid train alarm clock started blaring. Choo chooooo. He'd seen a commercial for it on Cartoon Network when he was seven and begged his parents to buy it for him for months. Finally, for his eighth birthday, he got his train.

He knew from watching the commercial repeatedly that the little plastic train went around the little plastic mountain and blew its little plastic whistle. What he didn't know was that the whistle was nearly as loud as an actual train.

The alarm startled Travis so terribly the next morning that he actually fell out of bed.

That was the same morning that Travis' father lost his job.

So when Travis asked his parents to return the ridiculous clock, all they said was: "Sorry honey, but money is going to be a little tight for a while."

12 years later, Travis still had that same damn clock.